


persistence

by beneaththemassk



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Fingering, Denial, First Kiss, Goro is attracted to protag at first sight, M/M, Masturbation, flirting maybe, some feelings?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22951318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beneaththemassk/pseuds/beneaththemassk
Summary: Goro can’t ignore him, even if he wants to.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 24
Kudos: 185





	1. Chapter 1

_“They do more than the cops…”_

Goro isn’t one who can be surprised easily. The world, put lightly, is trite. Boring. Any event can easily be summed down to dialectics—every thesis has an antithesis. So perhaps, he shouldn’t have been shocked by a certain messy-haired individual’s opposition to him.

It’s just that rarely anyone openly opposed him to his face, and so boldly, for that matter.

It kinda gave him a rush. Adrenaline that he hadn’t felt for a long time surged through his veins, but on stage he controlled his composure as he’d conditioned himself to do. He’d grown so into routine between school, his job, and his _job_ —he didn’t necessarily feel anything from it anymore, not like at the beginning.

The mysterious boy made him feel again. Somehow, it completely slipped his mind to get the boy’s name, while he himself announced his own so freely. Damn. 

Goro really wishes he knew.

He can see the boy’s face in his mind like an imprint. From on stage, the boy looked absolutely ordinary. Simply one student filled in a sea of many.

But he had to get closer. Even if the boy didn’t look like it on the outside, Goro could feel he was different. 

The boy gave one word for Goro’s ten, but each was purposeful. People loved it when Goro spoke complete nonsense, drawling on as if he was a genius among men—he truly wasn’t. Everyone else was just simple. 

Goro watched the boys lips closely when he spoke. They were a nice shade of pink, framed by a sharp jaw and chin Goro wouldn’t have noticed from afar. 

And those large glasses truly did the boy a disservice. Thick black frames hid someone who could’ve been stunningly attractive, in a rugged sort of sense, if not by convention. And behind those glasses—piercing eyes, seemingly calculating Goro’s whole being. They were a cool grey color, though not cold in nature. 

Goro was right about the boy. He was utterly drawn in. 

_“Would you mind talking with me again?”_ he had asked, despite knowing nothing about the boy, not even having his number. He was a desperate fool in the moment. 

Still, the other boy quirked his lips up in a devious sort of smile and agreed. The smile captivated Goro and lit an indescribable feeling in his chest. 

Goro now knows what that feeling was, as he lays in his bed pathetically hard.

Sleep was the goal, but as his cock sits hot and heavy over the bone of his hip, he realizes that he’s not sleeping anytime soon. He sighs. 

This happens, sometimes. It’s… normal. When he doesn’t take care of himself for so long.

Maybe thinking about the boy from before had set him off, but it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s— _attracted_ to someone else. God forbid. He has plans in life, and those plans don’t involve getting close to other people.

Goro begrudgingly sneaks a hand down under the covers, fingers ghosting over the material of his pajama pants. He presses in where he knows the tip is and lets out an exhale. It really has been a while. He’s especially sensitive tonight.

He continues rubbing small circles over his pants, the friction rough but something he’s grown to enjoy. The stimulation is there, not really enough to get him to the end, but teasing in a way that he likes. He feels his breathing pick up, his cock twitching within the confines of his pants. 

Precum spills from the slit and he frowns at the idea of getting his clothes dirty.

So Goro tears the blanket off, arches his hips to slide his pants down to his thighs. Refuses to look at himself. 

He closes his eyes and takes himself fully into his hand, the contact pleasantly warm. He begins to stroke and thinks about the faceless figures that he normally does, up against him, kissing him, getting off with him. 

Of course, someone like him doesn’t have any experience. The only substance in his memories comes from the rare times he looks up adult content on his phone. 

He thinks of a certain boy’s sharp mouth. He thinks of that boy putting his sharp mouth to good use—latching itself hotly against his neck and sucking. Goro lets out a quiet whine and touches himself on his neck with his free hand.

He thinks of the boy going lower, _lower_ —Goro sliding his hand down in time with his thoughts. The boy would lavish him in attention with his mouth, would take his sweet time before reaching Goro’s chest. 

Goro continues his strokes as they increase in pace, his hand becoming slick from his arousal. 

He imagines the boy finally taking his nipple into his mouth, and Goro’s hand slips under his shirt to gently scrape his fingernail over a pink bud. The sensation makes him twitch, immediately sending pleasure to his groin.

He imagines himself sifting his hand through the boy’s messy hair like a ship parting waves in the ocean. His hand would rest easily on the boy’s head, the top right under his chin. He imagines himself pulling, causing the boy to lightly bite him in retaliation. Goro pinches his nipple and it’s all over. 

He comes into his hand, trying to catch it all even as his mind blanks out and his senses escape him. He bites his lip hard and whines through his nose, feels like he’s losing it with the way his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

Goro’s panting and his face burns. His hearing is one of the last senses to return. Then it finally hits him that he just got off to a real-life person—someone he’d barely just met. 

That wasn’t his intention at all. 

He rarely found it in himself to get off just for _fun._ It was more of when the necessity arose, and otherwise too messy to deal with. Yet this boy seems to have sparked a flame in him, and more specifically his libido. 

He wishes he could find it in himself to feel guilty. Well, it’s not his fault the mysterious boy was so attractive, was it?

Instead, he feels relaxed, limbs warm and loose. Maybe now he can finally sleep. Not until he washes his hand, however. 

Goro doesn’t know how he’ll face that boy ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I barely remember the events of the game, but I like the idea of Goro meeting the protag for the first time and being obsessed without even knowing who he is—yet. Sorry if there's any mistakes!


	2. Chapter 2

Goro has a problem. He thinks it’s safe to diagnose himself with such by now. 

Ever since the day at the TV station, he’s woken up with an aching hard-on. Everyday. Without fail. 

It’s concerning as well a massive hinderance. He can’t believe that something so primitive and juvenile would happen to _him_ of all people. Goro is a busy man with a busy schedule, he doesn’t have time in the morning to indulge in his urges. So, with the patience of a saint, he waits for it go down, and spends the rest of the day on edge for it. There truly isn’t winning here. 

He refuses to acknowledge how the origin of his problem may be attributed to those dreams involving dark wavy hair, cunning eyes behind glasses and all that snark under a well-crafted facade. Goro can understand. Sympathizes all too well. 

The whole ordeal, however, is merely a coincidence. 

The hot summer weather must be… making his blood boil, causing it to flood to all parts of his body. That’s why he also wakes up sweating and breathing like he was running in his sleep. 

Getting off the night after the TV station was a luxury that Goro should’ve cherished, because lately Shido’s orders have been relentless. Each night Goro finds himself clambering the streets of Tokyo back to his place after taking care of insignificant shadows from an ever-growing list. He hardly has energy to shower, much less to touch himself. It leaves him feeling gross in more ways than one. 

He just wants to go back to living like he did before. Why was it suddenly so hard? Why couldn’t he seem to control his body?

Goro knows how problems end. Either they disappear or… one day they rear their ugly head, furious with being ignored for so long. He hopes this problem is one of the former. 

He continues to hope as he heads to the train station to get to school. Every breath feels like inhaling liquid air, warm and moist and invading his brain through his nostrils. Thinking isn’t the easiest thing to do at the moment. He’s certain the baby hairs at his neck are drenched in sweat and sticking to his skin. 

Goro almost thinks he’s hallucinating when he catches glimpse of a familiar Shujin student, waiting at the same train station. His eyes widen in revelation—that had to be it. Maybe he just needed to see this boy again and his problem would disappear. 

He weaves himself through the crowd of people, rushing towards the boy like a heat-seeking missile. 

“Ah, you’re the person I spoke with at the TV station. Hello,” Goro says smoothly. 

The boy turns towards Goro and his face is unmistakable—it _is_ him. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, and if he recognized Goro, nothing changes about his facial expression to indicate it.

“I’m not sure if you remember, but I’m—”

“—Detective Akechi,” the boy finishes. He gives a small smile. “I wouldn’t forget someone like you.”

“Oh—haha, is that so?” Goro smiles back and doesn’t think anything at all. His head is completely blank. He has to—has to think of something to say—“No need for such formalities, you can just call me Akechi.” 

“Alright then… Akechi,” the boy says with a voice too deep and smooth for someone his age. 

Goro feels a shiver run through him. Then he remembers what he’s forgetting. “Forgive me, but I don’t think I ever caught your name?” 

The boys eyebrows raise up slightly, as if he forgot as well. “It’s Akira Kurusu.” 

_Charming._ “Well, I’m glad to have finally met you for real this time, Kurusu-kun.” 

“Mm, me too.” Kurusu shifts his stance and looks out to the train tracks, almost bashfully. 

_No_ , their conversation can’t end here, Goro already deeming it much too short and unfulfilling.

“It’s quite some weather we’re having right now, don’t you think? I get sweaty just walking around a bit,” Goro laughs airily. _Great! Way to make yourself sound completely disgusting, Goro!_

“Oh?” Then Kurusu leans in close, closer—a rude invasion of Goro’s space. 

His face lays only a few breaths away, and Goro can clearly see a light flush and sheen of sweat over his skin. Close enough that Goro can feel Kurusu exhale hot air onto him. He’s imprisoned by Kurusu’s gaze, having no other options but to look the boy straight in the eyes. 

“Sorry, I have bad eyesight. I couldn’t tell before, but I guess I can see it.” Kurusu leans back, clearly satisfied with— _whatever_ he’d accomplished. “I’d say it’s a good look on you."

Goro has to bite back the inhuman noise that threatens to escape his mouth. “You’re joking with me, aren’t you?” he asks weakly. 

Kurusu’s eyes crinkle at the end when he grins. “No, not at all.” 

Goro huffs. What a liar. “I’d say you don’t look too bad yourself.” Now in the moment, or just all the time—Goro didn’t know which. Maybe both. 

That earns Goro more raised eyebrows. “Thanks, Mr. Popular Detective. Oh,” Kurusu looks to the incoming train. “That’s mine. I hope to see you around.” 

“I as well,” Goro responds with a wave, and like that Kurusu is gone—swallowed up by incoming passengers. 

Somehow, Goro feels like he lost a game he never knew he was playing. 

When he gets to class he can hardly focus, his mind pleasantly warm and numb. This was bad. Horrible on astronomical levels. 

Maybe, when Kurusu got up in his face earlier he secretly performed hypnosis. That would explain why Goro can’t stop thinking about it—about him. 

It’s torture to endure school in such a state, and when he gets out he decides _fuck it, fuck Shido, just for today._ He’s going straight home. And once he gets home, he’s solving this problem once and for all. 

He’s already hard once he reaches his front door. 

He stumbles in, haphazardly setting his briefcase on the floor _wherever_ and locking himself inside the bathroom, more out of habit than anything.

There, he presses his palm to the tent in his slacks and groans. The pressure was way too good after a week of restraining himself. He slips off his gloves, jacket, pants and underwear—leaves the shirt because that’s far too many buttons that simply aren’t worth his time. 

The mirror reflects back a stranger, someone almost completely unrecognizable. Goro sees his eyes darkened by dilated pupils, the way his chest moves under his rumpled shirt, his cock—hard and red and angled slightly upwards.

He really, really shouldn’t have looked. Immediately a hand flies up to cover his mouth, most likely to stop the undignified cry he would’ve let out at how shameful he looks. Still, nothing comes out. He’s overreacting. He intends to solve this problem, does he not?

Everything burns, his whole body, his cock in his trembling hand. Goro leans himself against the bathroom counter with one arm. He’s too sensitive to stroke himself fast and rough like he wants to. Instead, he maintains a frustrated grip on himself, only further fueling his desperation. 

This was all Kurusu’s fault. No one was ever interested in Goro. They were interested in his status or his perceived attractiveness, and anyone who got close to him always wanted something out of it. But Kurusu acted like Goro was _no one._

It could’ve been wistful thinking, but Goro can almost believe that Kurusu is actually interested in him as a _person._

The idea of being wanted, the fact that it can be so close in Goro’s reach—he can’t mess this up. Precum drips from a string onto the floor. Goro irritably makes a note to clean it up later.

Goro remembers vividly how close Kurusu had been to him, could nearly feel the body heat radiating off of the other boy. In that moment, Kurusu could’ve had his way with Goro, could’ve done _anything_ to him. Goro would’ve let him. His mind unhelpfully supplies flashes of images—Kurusu grabbing him by the tie, pulling him down and—

It’s enough to make him come. But Goro stops himself, breathes heavily, tightly wraps his fingers around the base of his dick as it throbs and leaks precum from his denied release. He needs more than that—needs—he isn’t sure how to process it. 

He digs out a seldom used bottle of lube from one of the drawers. For some reason, doing so suffocates Goro in a sense of defeat. He rarely went further than simply jacking himself off, and wasn’t very successful when he _did_ , but this time feels different. 

He squeezes out a small amount of lube onto his fingers, just enough to coat them, and rubs it around to warm the viscous liquid up. Reaching around behind, he prods his hole with a slick finger. It feels… tight. Goro isn’t sure how to loosen up, but he does his best to relax. 

By itself, the pressure and friction against his entrance is enough to make him shiver. It’s sensitive in its own respect. The more that Goro rubs circles against the ring of muscle, the more impatient he feels, and the more he feels the desire to have something in him. He finally pushes the tip of his pointer finger in and wiggles it around.

It certainly feels like a finger in his ass. The pressure, even if just a little bit is… nice. Having something open him up changes the whole atmosphere entirely. He pistons his finger slowly to acclimate to the feeling. Once he has the whole finger in entirely he thrums it against his walls, searching for his prostate that he knows is there yet—the angle’s all wrong, and his finger’s not long enough.

It’s frustrating, yet he’s still close enough to feel the distant pleasure echoing from that spot.

His legs don’t want to hold up anymore, and Goro sinks to the ground. He hopes the floor mat underneath is soft enough to protect his knees. Without having to hold himself up he now can use his non-dominant hand to clumsily stroke himself. He has to rebuild the momentum he lost from nearly coming the first time, but playing with himself from both the back and front is getting him there quickly. 

Goro wonders if someone else’s fingers would be able to reach that spot inside him—probably so. They would be able to give him what he wants and more, draping their whole body against him while fingering him, making him feel small and out of control and dominated. He thinks about how Kurusu already makes him feel that way. 

Kurusu wouldn’t just use one finger, if he were to prepare Goro for something _more._ So Goro inserts a second slick finger all the way and groans at the stretch. It burns but it’s not painful.

He pants in time with the thrusts of his fingers, not fully pulling them out but rather mimicking a grinding motion. He feels like he’s going insane, can hardly control the hand on his dick as it loosely moves in a sad imitation of stroking. 

His core burns from trying to keep himself upright, but he has to, _he’s almost there._ His thoughts take on a mind of their own, flooding his head with images of Kurusu’s own dick in him, rather than his fingers. Of Goro riding Kurusu, his cock stretching his hole and pounding into his prostate. 

He pictures Kurusu’s face, already knowing what he looks worked up—cheeks tinged with pink and sweat lightly lining the edges of his face. He pictures Kurusu with his mouth slightly parted and breathing hard, his eyebrows furrowed and his hands gripping Goro’s hips. He pictures Kurusu thrusting up hard into him, leaving Goro powerless to do anything against the onslaught of sensations. It’d build until he couldn’t take it anymore, and Goro would come and taint the flushed skin of Kurusu’s stomach with his release.

Instead, Goro comes with a groan over the tiled bathroom floor. A far cry from anything in his fantasy. 

“Shit…” he mumbles to himself. He’ll have to clean that up. 

His knees ache. He shifts his body to sit on the floor with himself leaning against the cabinet as he struggles to control his breathing. The remaining lube around his hole and fingers begins to dry and it leaves a cold, unpleasant feeling. 

After this he definitely needs to shower, and hopes that he can wash away the feeling of grime clinging to his skin along with his own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not normally a fast writer, but you know :) 
> 
> Slightly longer chapter but hopefully it ended off okay. Added some new tags, maybe some plot progression (if there even is such a thing). Sorry if there's any mistakes!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, no porn this chapter, but hopefully interaction between Goro and Akira makes up for it.

“You look stressed, Akechi.”

Goro blinks. “Sorry?” he says less out of being sorry and more out of not having understood what Sae said. 

“It’s beginning to stress _me_ out,” Sae says from her desk, voice very much monotone. “I’m kidding. But seriously. Quit staring at the wall like that, it’s disturbing.” 

_Was_ he staring at the wall? He hadn’t been aware. Sae’s right, though—he was stressed.

Shido had called him earlier _gently_ wondering why Goro hadn’t given him a status report yesterday.

 _“I’m very sorry, sir, I was feeling unwell last night,”_ Goro had said, and technically there was some truth to it. _“I’d already made plans to double the workload today to compensate.”_

_“I sincerely hope you see to it, then.”_

And like the absolute dunce he is, Goro realizes he forgot to ask for Kurusu’s number. _Again._ What’s the probability that they will run into each other by chance like last time?

At the least, Goro knows what train he takes to school, which is a start. It seems the boy has no social media presence whatsoever—rare for someone in this day and age.

However, Goro had also found concerning content regarding Kurusu allegedly having a criminal history. It was just a rogue post on some Shujin affiliated forums. It seemed that anything else related had been completely purged.

High school was a cesspool for rumors. Goro can’t be certain that any of it is true. He needs to remember to look into it, later on.

Sae audibly sighs. “What did I just say?” 

“Ah, right. I’m just thinking about my exams.” Goro smiles, tries to play himself as the ditzy teenager he knows Sae sees him as. 

“Akechi,” Sae says sternly, as if she’s Goro’s boss and has any authority over him. She has no idea. “Oh, I know. There’s this coffee shop I went to recently. It has a quiet atmosphere and good coffee—maybe you should go there and relax.” 

It sounds more like a demand than a suggestion, something to get him out of her hair. It’s still surprisingly thoughtful of her. However, coffee is the last thing Goro needs for his nerves. 

“Oh, that’s alright—” 

“I already sent the address to your phone.” 

When did she—? Goro must really be out of it for him to not have noticed. Sure enough, his phone chimes. “I suppose it can’t hurt to stop by…” 

“That’s the spirit.” 

It used to unnerve Goro how Sae could say anything without any changes in her facial expression or tone of voice.

———————— 

Goro was honestly expecting a building more high class—not some hole-in-the wall café tucked in the backstreets of Yongen Jaya.

The sign says ‘ _Café Leblanc’._ Sounds foreign. 

He enters in through an old door, which causes a bell to chime. Immediately he can smell coffee beans and some kind of spice.

“Welcome,” a scruffy looking man greets him with a rough voice. He doesn’t even look up from his newspaper. 

“Hello,” Goro greets back out of habit, though he suspects the man didn’t care either way.

He decides to sit at the far end of the bar on a stool to read the menu. Shockingly, the coffee shop serves curry and rice as well, which would explain the smell of spices. Too bad Goro hasn’t had much of an appetite as of late. He recognizes that there’s a handful of different types of beans on the menu to order—that of which he is clueless about.

“Excuse me,” Goro says to get the older man’s attention. “What would you recommend off the menu?” 

“Hm.” The man gives Goro a good look. “I’ll make you a cup of something sweet. It’ll be a few moments.” 

“Thank you.” 

Goro does his best to not interrogate the man on why he looks like someone who’d drink sweet coffee. 

He waits, watches the man use a series of contraptions to brew his coffee. His food blog followers would be despairing at how little he actually knows about any kind of food.

The cafe seems to be completely empty, save for himself and the older man. Goro supposes this is what Sae constitutes as a ‘quiet atmosphere’. It _is_ very nice to go somewhere and not be recognized or photographed.

In the background Goro can hear a TV faintly playing. He looks around for it, which turns out to be a mistake because he sees Shido being projected on the screen, the local news station turned on and running a segment on politics. Goro wrinkles his nose. 

“Not a fan of politics?” the man asks as he sets a steaming cup of black coffee in front of Goro. 

Goro doesn’t like it when people ask him things. He can barely stand interviews, but gets through it since all his answers are scripted anyhow like controlled realism. “No, not particularly,” he answers anyway. “I do believe they’re a necessary evil.” 

“I’ll change the station,” and the man does—changes it right to an episode of Featherman. 

Goro feigns disinterest and pays attention to his coffee instead. He never drinks it black. “Do you happen to have cream and sugar?”

“Try it first. If you don’t like it I’ll give you some.”

Goro mentally clicks his tongue. What a pushy man. He brings the cup to his mouth and finds that the temperature isn’t too hot despite the steam and he takes a sip. 

“Ah,” Goro breathes. It doesn’t taste like any black coffee he’s ever had. The liquid was slightly sweet and not acidic or bitter like he’d expected it to be. Goro can see the man smirk at him with crossed arms. “I’m sorry for doubting you.” 

The man laughs. “Happens all the time.” 

Suddenly, Goro hears stomping sounds coming from the ceiling, and the man behind the counter seems to notice as well. He doesn’t look too happy about it. Perhaps there’s a tenant upstairs, or _pests, or_ —

—the sound moves and begins coming down the stairs. What comes out isn’t a random tenant, or some animal. 

“Akechi?” Kurusu regards him with wide eyes. 

Goro opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Kurusu looks as if he’d just woken up, his hair more of a mess than usual, and he’s wearing sweats rather than a school uniform. Those glasses that Goro’s come to know him by are absent.

“Do you two… know each other?” the man behind the counter asks. “Wait, aren’t you that detective on the TV? I should’ve known you looked familiar.” 

Kurusu nods. “Sojiro, I met him at the TV station trip a while back.”

Sojiro turns towards Kurusu with a stern look on his face. “Kid, what on earth are you doing down here dressed like that? The shop’s still open.” 

Goro holds a hand out. “Oh, I don’t mind at all.” Quite the opposite, really.

All Sojiro does is sigh. “I guess it’s fine. We’re closing soon anyway.” 

“Hey, I’ll close the shop so you can go home,” Kurusu offers. 

“Alright, but change first.” 

And like that, Sojiro’s out the door and Kurusu’s changing wherever upstairs is. Kurusu comes back down with a change of clothes and an apron on, assuming position behind the counter. 

“So,” Kurusu says, and just looks at Goro with a neutral expression. “I never expected to see you here. How’d you find this place? Did you follow my trail, Mr. Detective?” 

Goro feels nervous sitting at the bar now, nothing like the calm from before. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that the boy he’d been thinking about non-stop, and has gotten off to, is right in front of him. 

“I suppose I could if I wanted, but no. My coworker recommended this place to me on the basis that it has amazing coffee—which it does.” Goro tucks some hair behind his ear and can’t believe he’s going to say what he’s thinking. “Maybe fate brought us together again, don’t you think?” 

“You believe in fate?” Kurusu asks. “Seems contradictory as a detective.” 

That’s right. Kurusu couldn’t leave well-enough alone at the TV station and he can’t seem to do so now. 

Goro shakes his head. “Life has to have some mysteries to stay interesting. Speaking of,” Goro looks and sees how Kurusu sharpens his attention on him. “What were you doing sleeping upstairs?”

“Oh, you could tell that I was sleeping?” Kurusu laughs. “Truth is is that I live here, up in the attic. It’s ah—a long story. I wouldn’t bore you with it.” 

“Hm, I don’t think you could ever bore me,” Goro says to reassure Kurusu, belatedly realizing it could be taken the wrong way. “Here, how about this—I’ll tell you something about myself in exchange for why you live in the attic of a coffee shop. Does that sound fair?” 

Kurusu leans over the counter, clearly looking like someone not doing their job. “I don’t think I can say no to you.” 

Goro feels his skin prickle. Does Kurusu say such borderline-flirtatious words to get a rise out of him? Or is he always like that? 

“No, I didn’t think you would,” Goro retorts. 

He thinks of something substantial enough to tell Kurusu. He looks to the TV. _I’m secretly a fan of Featherman._ No. _I’m not only a detective but a hired hitman as well._ He’d be crazy to say that. _Somehow you have cursed my dick._ Absolutely not.

“I don’t think many people know, but I’m actually an orphan,” he goes with instead, inexplicably compelled by the other boy to tell the truth. “My mother passed while I was young and I never knew my father.”

Well, a lie wouldn’t hurt.

“Akechi… I’m really sorry to hear that.” 

To his credit, Kurusu does look like he means it. 

“Oh no, I’m simply telling you because it’s a fact of my life. I’m sure some avid fans on the internet have found out by now,” he laughs because the very thought is hilarious, the extent to which complete strangers would try to uncover information on him. Goro looks Kurusu in the eye expectantly. “Well?” 

Kurusu averts his eyes and becomes much more interested in twisting his bangs with his fingers. “I don’t think what I have to say is as big is that. I just moved here recently because I’m on probation. Sojiro, the shop owner—he agreed to take me in.” 

_So it was true. He did commit some crime._

“I was charged with assault. This drunk man was trying to take advantage of a woman, so I just—tried to stop him, and he fell.” 

“Kurusu…” 

Kurusu’s lips curve up. “I don’t regret that I did it. Plus, Tokyo’s a lot more interesting than my hometown.” 

Goro brings a gloved hand to his mouth. “And you’re telling a member of law enforcement this? Kurusu, you shouldn’t have been charged with assault for _that_. I could investigate the case—”

“No, you can’t. Everyone involved was probably paid off, and the man who pressed charges is too powerful. I’m lucky to even have probation.” True to his word, Kurusu doesn’t look any part remorseful. “That’s how the system is, Akechi. I’m sure you’re familiar with it.” 

Goro shakes his head. Of course he is. “I appreciate that you’re comfortable enough to be honest with me.” 

“No reason not to be. If none of that happened, I wouldn’t have been able to meet you, would I?”

Goro feels himself flush at the comment. “You’re being awfully blasé about this.” 

Kurusu leans in closer. “And not to sound crazy, but I don’t see you as a member of law enforcement, or a celebrity from TV. You just look like some guy who uses too many skincare products.” 

Goro scoffs. “Guilty.” 

“Akechi,” Kurusu wets his bottom lip, and the motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Goro. “I hope I’m not reading into this wrong.”

“No, I don’t think you are,” Goro chokes out, despite how it pains him. “Kurusu—may I—”

_“Yes.”_

They both lean in at the same time. It’s almost surreal, like something out of a movie—too perfect to be true. 

Their chests suspend over the countertop and finally they bridge the gap between their lips. 

For Goro, this is an amazing first kiss. It’s tame, tamer than anything in his fantasies, but he’s losing it all the same with the warm press of the other boys lips. Kurusu holds his chin to tilt his head slightly and Goro lets himself melt into it. Kurusu hums and Goro’s lips part slightly to gasp, breathing the boy in. Goro would fill his lungs with the other boy if he could. 

When they part they just kind of look at eachother. Goro’s lips tingle in a pleasant way—it makes him want to kiss Kurusu again. 

“...Hey,” Kurusu says.

Goro can’t stop the snort that comes out of him, because out of all the things to say after a _kiss,_ Kurusu chooses that. 

His alarm decides now to blare through his phone.

“Ah!” Goro jumps. “I’m—I’m really sorry, I have to go into work.”

_Fuck. Shit._

Kurusu pouts and it wrenches Goro’s heart. “This late?” he asks. 

“It’s a special case. Again, I’m really sorry.” 

Kurusu holds his hand out expectantly. “No, I understand. Here, let me give you my number and we can meet up on purpose next time.” 

Thank _fuck,_ Goro would’ve forgetten again. He quickly clears his alarm notification and hands his phone over to Kurusu

“There, I sent a text to myself.” Kurusu walks around the counter, and Goro isn’t sure why until he leaves a searing kiss on his cheek. “Goodluck at work.”

“You are—I mean—I will,” Goro breathes. He nearly trips over himself on the way out. 

Goro rounds some corners until he’s sure no one can see him. He enters the Metaverse, mentally cursing to himself. The desire to stay with Kurusu was strong, but the desire to not get gutted by Shido’s men is stronger. He’s already pulling the fishing line too taut, and he’s too close now to just let it snap over a cute boy. 

Tonight, Goro feels newly invigorated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys are gay good for them
> 
> Sorry if there's any mistakes!


	4. Chapter 4

Morgana digs his claws into Akira’s thigh. Despite the pain, Akira doesn’t acknowledge it with anything more than a twitch of his leg.

“Are you stupid?!” Morgana yells at the top of his lungs. “I said, ‘maybe he’d be useful for information’. Not to kiss him!”

“What, were you spying on me? That’s creepy,” Akira says.

Morgana groans long and loud because Akira’s clearly a lost cause. 

He’s aware that if there’s any one person who could single handedly discover the identity of the Phantom Thieves and arrest them, it’d be Goro Akechi. And, well… 

It was honestly kinda hot. 

These past months Akira’s been finding himself flirting with danger, in a metaphorical sense. Doing so was something that came with the job. He’d gotten himself into more life-threatening situations than anyone else around him, but what kind of leader would he be if he didn’t put others first?

Now, he flirts with danger in a literal sense. Getting close to Akechi is dangerous. Not only did he want the Thieves reprimanded for their supposed crimes, but Akira knows he and his group are extremely conspicuous. The level of precaution they take for themselves is laughable.

So yes, Akira is stupid. But so is Akechi.

For whatever reason, Akechi acts like he doesn’t spend the majority of his time around Akira staring at his lips, or looking like he’s mentally undressing him. Even if Akira wasn’t as perceptive as he was, it was extremely obvious. 

And Akechi is so easy to fluster. All Akira needs to do is get too close, or say something vaguely suggestive. 

Akira doesn’t know what Akechi would see in him, and if he’s being honest, he isn’t too sure what compelled him to kiss someone he’d met only twice before.

What matters is that Akechi kissed him back, and that they both wanted it. It doesn’t have to be something serious, Akira reasons. For starters, it would be— _bad,_ to say the least, if Akechi finds out Akira is the leader of the group he so often publicly criticizes. And isn’t Akechi too high profile for something like this anyways? With that considered, everything will probably be fine. Akira wants it to be fine. 

There’s no way for him to tell when all input from his brain has ceased to exist.

He wants to see Akechi again. He feels dissatisfied after the boy had abruptly left for work, although it was probably better that way, because Akira’s not sure what he would’ve done had Akechi stayed longer. 

Probably something idiotic for sure. 

————————

**To: Akechi**

**Me:** Just so you know, I feel obligated to tell you that all coffee is on the house

 **Akechi:** I might have to take you up on that offer. 

**Akechi:** Unfortunately, my schedule is booked for quite a while. 

**Me:** :(

 **Akechi:** I’m free to talk or text over the phone. 

**Akechi:** Promise you’ll keep my coffee warm in the meantime? 

**Me:** Of course

————————

 _“Now what are you doing?”_ Morgana hisses. 

“I’m just talking. Ow— _stop doing that.”_ Akira grits his teeth as Morgana surely punctures more holes into his thigh. 

Morgana ceases his assault, and opts instead to swish his tail in agitation. “You better watch out, mister. If the law catches us, it’s over. Don’t play around!” 

Akira lays down in bed, phone still in hand. “He’s harmless, don’t worry.”

————————

The binary between those on the side of the Thieves and those on Akechi’s side grows wider. The Thieves have been garnering resounding support since their last palace, but that doesn’t mean everyone’s on board.

At the back of the classroom on a blackboard, there’s a crude drawing of Akechi himself. 

“It’s ugly, just like the real version,” Ryuji says. 

Ann taps him on the hand with the back of her chopsticks. “He’s not _ugly,_ you’re just jealous.” 

Akira snaps a picture of the drawing. 

Ryuji whips his hand back. “I bet he’s a snake, too. Ain’t no one talks all squeaky and polite like that all the time. He could tell us to eat dirt and his fans would cheer for him.” 

Akira sends the picture to Akechi. 

“You are _so_ jealous,” Ann muses. 

————————

**To: Akechi**

**Akechi:** Funny. Is that supposed to be me?

 **Akechi:** My nose doesn’t look like that. 

————————

“Hey, what’re lookin’ at your phone like that for? Eat your food,” Ryuji says. He looks unreasonably sad and dejected.

“Oh my god, he’s smiling,” Ann comments unnecessarily. “Who are you talking to?” 

“No one.”

Morgana’s head pops out from under the desk. “He’s been texting _Goro Akechi._ I’ve seen it!” 

Akira frowns and plants his palm square on Morgana’s face, pushing him back into the void. 

_“What?”_ Ryuji’s voice cracks. “Since when?”

“Since last night,” Morgana’s voice comes out muffled.

“Makes sense since you two talked at the TV station, right? But…”

“Yeah, _but?”_ Ryuji parrots. 

Ann taps her chin. “I don’t see a reason to keep doing it.” 

“I’m gathering intel. It’d be useful to know what he knows,” Akira says quickly. He’d been thinking about what he’d say to his friends if Akechi came up, though he didn’t expect it to be so soon. 

“Oh sure, so gathering intel involves kish _—mph—”_ Morgana struggles to speak and fails. 

_“People are looking,”_ Akira says. He uses both arms to contain the flailing cat inside his desk, but even Morgana knows causing a scene would mean trouble for everyone. 

Sure enough, everyone in the class is discreetly-not-so-discreetly looking towards the group. Akira’s pretty sure everyone knows about Morgana. It’s only a matter of when someone decides to report it… 

Ryuji scratches his head. “Man,” he sighs. “Whatever. I gotta get back to my class.” 

Ann gives a pointed look to Akira once Ryuji leaves. “Don’t worry about him, he just wishes he looks as good as Akechi-kun does.”

Akira smiles at her. It’s true that Akechi’s unreasonably attractive.

They continue their day without speaking about it. 

————————

Akira and Akechi have been texting regularly since then. They don’t talk about anything groundbreaking, just how their days have been going. Obviously, Akira leaves the Metaverse stuff out.

Akechi really does sound like he’s busy. Akira wishes he could do something for him.

Sojiro doesn’t make him work while his friends are over, which is awfully nice of him. Akira can’t place his finger on the behavior—it’s almost… fatherly. Sojiro delivers snacks and drinks, except really it’s curry and coffee. Not necessarily something you’d be feeding your kids. 

“Ugh, it’s _him,_ ” Ryuji says to the TV.

Akira turns his body around to look. He should’ve known by Ryuji’s tone of voice that it’d be Akechi. It seems he’s doing an interview—a recent one, by the looks of it. “That’s a new one,” Akira notes. 

“What—how would you know that?” Ryuji’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Can we just change the channel?” 

Morgana murmurs an affirmation to Ryuji, which never happens under absolutely any circumstance. 

“That Akechi kid?” Sojiro asks. “I think he’s a polite young man. A little superficial, but at least he’s got manners,” Sojiro says as if he’s making a point to Akira’s friends.

Ann rolls her eyes but only because she knows Sojiro can’t see her. “Don’t change it yet, I want to hear what he says.” 

_“Detective Akechi, can you give us any new insight on the Phantom Thieves?”_ the interviewer asks a question that’s been asked infinite times by now. 

_“They’ve been quiet as of late, however, the changes of hearts they perform are still a mystery. It seems that mental shutdown cases have been increasing, as well. It makes me wonder…”_

Even when Akechi is accusing Akira and his friends of murder, he still looks cute. 

Ryuji shakes his head. “So he ain’t so smart, after all. The Thieves would never do that.” 

“His fans are going to eat it up, anyways,” Ann says. 

“Akira!” Morgana suddenly shouts. “I know, since you’re _still_ texting that guy, why don’t you set him straight about us?” 

“I hate to say it, but I think you should try that,” Ryuji says.

Ann gives Akira a look—eyebrows somehow both raised and furrowed at the same time. “You’re still talking to him? I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

“Don’t mind me, just keep talking to the cat like that,” Sojiro says. 

Akira sighs. “I’ll see what I can do.”

————————

**To: Akechi**

**Me:** I just saw your latest interview

 **Me:** You look tired

 **Akechi:** I’d be upset hearing that from anyone else. I was quite tired that day, though. 

**Me:** Don’t worry, you still look as handsome as always

 **Akechi:** Haha, I’m glad you think that. 

**Akechi:** Thankfully that’s the last of my publicity stunts for a while. I think I’d be free to come by for coffee soon. 

**Me:** Great :) It’s still warm

————————

Akira sets his phone down on the table and is greeted with the curious stares of his friends. 

“Well, did you do it?” Morgana asks.

“Do what?” 

“Man, the both of you are hopeless,” Ryuji groans. 

Ann giggles, supposedly at everyone’s misery. 

————————

It’s when Akira’s exiting the bathhouse shower that his phone rings. The phone screen says that Akechi’s calling. It’s unusual—what would he want at this hour? He’s never gotten a phone call from Akechi. If it’s an emergency, then—

Akira picks up as fast as he can, though he gets water droplets on his phone. “Hello?”

_“Ah, Kurusu. You picked up.”_

“What’s up?” Akira has to adjust the towel around his waist as it threatens to slip down. 

_“We just completed the case, so I thought I’d call you, now that I have a little free time.”_

“That’s good. It sounded very time consuming.”

 _“You can’t even imagine,”_ Akechi despairs. _“Also, would you believe me if I said… I wanted to hear your voice? Amongst everything else that’s happened, it’s refreshing.”_

Akira feels himself flush. “You flatter me too much.” 

Akechi laughs beautifully, even though Akira didn’t think what he said was very humorous. _“I don’t say things baselessly. Also, I hope I didn’t interrupt you with this call. What are you doing?”_

“Oh, uh—I just got out of the shower, actually. I’m still—I haven’t put my clothes on yet,” Akira murmurs. “But I’m not busy at all, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 _“A shower…?”_ Akechi’s voice sounds far-off, like he didn’t intend to say that in the speaker. _“I wasn’t aware that_ _Leblanc had a shower.”_

“It doesn’t, I have to walk across the street to the bathhouse. It’s kind of a pain, honestly.” 

_“I can empathize. I suppose having my own apartment’s something I’ve been taking for granted. I ought to take a shower, myself. Running around the SIU building is strenuous work.”_

That puts terrible imagery in Akira’s head. First, of Akechi running around some official government building, getting more disheveled with each step. Perhaps he would take his coat off and undo his tie, and maybe he’d roll the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms. Maybe he would have worked up a sweat, his skin shiny and slightly pink. And then, he’d push his hair back to relieve some of the heat under of skin—

But Akechi had said he needed to shower, didn’t he? Akira can’t even go too deep into that thought. Obviously, Akechi would be completely naked, standing under running water. Akira hasn’t had the opportunity to see much of his skin, but sometimes he gets glimpses of what _could_ be under Akechi’s clothes. 

Like his narrow waist or his slim thighs, or when he walks, the way that his ass moves with the motion. 

It’s amazing how many images the brain can conjure in just a few seconds. 

Akira almost groans, but quickly covers it up with a cough. 

_“Don’t get sick, now. It’s hardly the right kind of weather for that.”_

“Yeah, thanks.” 

Akira realizes with horror that blood is beginning to travel down to his dick. It’s _bad,_ Akechi’s still on the other side of the line and has no clue at all. When’s the last time Akira’s properly gotten off? Days? Weeks? It’s impossible with a roommate attached to his side, but with Morgana absent—would it be so bad to indulge himself? 

For christ’s sake, he’s in a public bathhouse, _he really shouldn’t._ A completely empty batthouse that he knows no one will be visiting at this time. 

Quietly, he drops the towel around his waist and proceeds to sit on the bench nude. Akira keeps his free hand curled on his thigh, though doing so is useless—his dick is already properly hard. 

_“Sorry, I zoned out for a bit, there. Um…”_

_You and I both,_ Akira thinks. He begins to stroke himself and realizes that hearing Akechi’s voice was nice. Really nice. 

He needs to keep the other boy talking, while somehow not giving himself away. Luckily, he has years of experience getting off quietly, as well as experience stealthily getting off in Leblanc’s bathroom. Not that he’s done it very often—only when necessary. 

_“Oh, that’s right. I can come to Leblanc tomorrow, if that’s alright with you.”_

Akira makes sure to let out his shaky exhale away from the speaker. “You know I already said that you’re welcome anytime. I always—want to see you.” 

_“Now it sounds like you’re trying to persuade me to go.”_

Yes. _Yes._ Akira shivers, arches his back, tries to not let his phone drop to the floor. “Maybe I am. I could make you curry, if you want. I’m not… great at it. Or we could even go—go out to eat, somewhere.” 

_“I like that idea as well. Truthfully, I’m not the best at handling spicy foods. My face goes all red, haha.”_

“Ah—okay. Let’s do that, then.” _God._ Maybe Akira’s not that great at being quiet as he thought. Or maybe Akechi’s voice just makes him feel extra sensitive. He can hear his own rapid breaths, knows that he’s getting close. 

_“I wonder where we should go. I suppose as your senpai I should be the one to show you around, hm?”_

Akira bites down hard on his lip because god, _yes,_ Akechi _is_ his senpai. That’s what sets him off. His whole body tenses taut as a rod, and his cum spills freely over the fist he has around his dick and down to his thighs. He can’t hold the phone to his ear anymore, instead drops it limply at his side as he strokes himself through the aftershocks. 

_“Kurusu?”_ Akira can still faintly hear from his phone. _“What was that sound? Are you alright?”_

“Yeah, sorry. Just dropped my phone,” Akira says as he stares at the viscous mess he made.

_“Oh dear, I hope you didn’t crack your screen or anything.”_

“No, everything’s fine.” 

_“That’s good, then. I don’t know if you heard me, but I said that I’ll decide on a place to go to, so don’t worry about that.”_

_Akechi’s so kind._ “Alright, that sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Akira says but can’t quite keep the breathless quality out of his voice. 

_“Of course. Oh, and take care to not get ill, Kurusu. Your voice sounds a little rough.”_

Akira’s face burns from shame. Well, as long as he wasn’t caught. “I’m fine, really. But thank you. Um, goodbye.” 

Akira hears Akechi repeat goodbye back and promptly hangs up. 

That was really messed up. At the same time, it was desperately needed. Akira can’t even find it in himself to feel bad. As long as Akechi didn’t notice, he’ll never find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


End file.
